“Her father threw a fist, and another lamp crashed to the floor, but its bulb did not break, and it threw its eerie light in an unnatural, upward angle at the horrifying scene. Before little Penny’s eyes, her father turned into a great monster, casting a shadow behind him that crept up the walls and swallowed the room in darkness.
“It was, perhaps, in this moment that little Penny regretted her rash actions. Perhaps her angry father did need his sweet, magic chemical to prevent himself from turning into the monster she was now staring at.
“Her father knew where to get more. He stormed out of the house, but little Penny couldn’t let him leave. ‘Daddy!’ she cried out, chasing him into the yard. He swung into the seat of his great white truck. ‘Daddy!’ she cried out again, clinging to the handle of the car door as the engine roared to life. Little Penny would forever remember the sound of that engine roaring. It was not unlike the roar of a great, toothy beast, except this one did not mean to protect her.
“And at the foot of that driveway, Dog was sleeping peacefully.
“The truck jerked, then rolled backward with the speed and rage of the monster behind the wheel.
“Dog … looked up too late.”
The silence in the room grows thick. No one seems to move. I feel the slackness in her grip on the chain, for a moment utterly forgetting that I’m wearing them at all.
“Nell?” I prompt, worry in my voice.
Her eyes are focused nowhere in particular. She doesn’t look at anyone in the room—or anything. She simply stares into the memory, into that little house in her brain, into the cupboard above the sink. It’s like she’s staring at the foot of that driveway, at whatever it was she saw after the truck pulled out.
“Nell.” I reach up to touch her.
She flinches, dropping my leash at once, then turns and slowly heads for the door.
“What was the second death?” blurts the girl sitting on the table, completely oblivious to what the telling of the tale has done to Nell. “You promised two deaths. What’s the second one?”
Nell stops at the door. “Me,” she answers, and her voice is almost gentle, quiet and far, far away. “I died that day.”
She pulls open the door and leaves the house.
“Nell,” I call out after her, then hurry out the door as fast as I can manage with my ankles bound together, the chains rattling with each stumbling step.
She moves so quickly that it’s halfway down the damn street when I finally catch up to her. “Nell! What happened in there??”
“I shared a story,” she says flippantly.
“Babe …”
We turn a corner. My house looms across the street, quiet and dark, though I doubt my parents expected us back so early.
“Where are all the damn kids?” Nell blurts, glancing around.
“There aren’t many little kids trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. Just teens raising hell. Nell, look at me, please.”
Nell turns, her eyes suddenly hungry and glowing under the warm, amber streetlamp. “We should fuck.”
Not what I was expecting. “W-What?”
“On this guy’s lawn,” she says, as if making the decision just now. “Right here.”
“No. Nell …”
“I want to feel you fuck me with grass tickling my naked back.”
My mouth goes dry. What has gotten into her? “This is Matthew McManus’s lawn. I … I used to mow it when I was sixteen.”
She grips my chains and pulls them tight, bringing my cuffed wrists to her breasts. “I bet we would’ve made a hot couple back then,” she whispers. “If we went to the same high school, so much would’ve been different. So much would’ve been better. So much …”
I’m distracted by her beautiful tits barely contained by that shirt long enough to really consider having sex with her on this lawn, right here and right now.
“We would’ve owned your school,” she goes on, her voice like silk, seducing me into a state I’d really rather not be in, not on my neighbor Matthew’s damn lawn. “We would have kept all the dumb bitches at bay, the ones who destroyed my work on the bus, the ones who pushed me in the halls, the ones who turned me dark …”
“Nell …”
“You’re my prisoner. You have to do what I say. Agree with me,” she demands quietly, her words like windy daggers in my ears. “Agree with me, Brant.”
“I want to talk about that story.”
She pulls away from me and starts to unbutton her shirt. Right here. In front of the whole world and Matthew and the stray cats in the street I can’t see and possible trick-or-treaters that could walk by at any second. She starts stripping on the lawn.